The Good Ol’ Hockey Game

Author’s Note (March 6^th, 2011): I asked Ender to repost my two “Good Ol’ Hockey Game” articles last week, and I just went through them today to make sure all the formatting was kosher and the dead links were pruned. Along the way, I found a few unfortunate relics of…well, being 18. And not just the more indiscriminate profanity. I have made sure to call out the worst of them as loudly as possible, because it wasn’t embarrassing enough having them in there in the first place.

For months, Dad and I have been meaning to go to a hockey game–either the Calgary Hitmen or the U of C Dinos. It’s taken until now, playoff time, for us to finally get around to doing it. After some debate about which game (3 or 4) to go to, we settled on Game 4, Wednesday.

15:20 – Search TicketMaster for seats. On a whim, I check out the tickets for the lower bowl–oh, look, they’re the same price as the upper bowl for the reds, in each zone. I figure I might get a high seat in the lower bowl, but hey, it’s still better than any of my previous vantage points, all of them in the 200s, most of them the high 200s.

15:21 – Section 107…Row 2?! That can’t be right. That puts me within spitting (though sadly, not banging) distance of the glass. Fuckin’ A.

15:25 – Transaction complete. After TM fees, it’s $47 for an adult and a student admission, complete with emailed tickets. Compare this to $103 each for a Flames game–or $81/seat/game as season-ticket holders. Holy shit.

15:33 – Tickets arrive. Of course, by this time, I’ve already begun bragging around the Internet about it, so it’s a couple of hours before I get around to actually printing them off.

Wednesday

Typical school day. Went to class, ate lunch, went to another class, voted for myself, bought a shirt, came home. While waiting for the bus home, I saw a guy pull out a PSP and start playing Gretzky NHL. All I can say is: believe the hype. This is, without a doubt, the slickest-looking handheld ever created, from both the graphical and exterior point of view–and I was looking at one of the lamest launch titles on the platform, so I can only imagine how something like Wipeout Pure or Lumines looks up close and personal, to say nothing of how games will look when developers actually start pushing the PSP. Bottom line: Nintendo is fucked if they don’t announce something a lot more substantial than some Touch Touch Revolution shit at E³.

Author’s Note: Reading this again six years later…holy hell, was I ever wrong.

17:20 – Leave the house. Almost forget my tickets despite being reminded three times in about five minutes. Oh, yeah, we’re off to a grand start. And Dad won’t let me drive. Bugger.

17:29 – Arrive at Whitehorn station. There’s a train waiting right there. Sweet.

17:30 – Or…no, it’s not. Damn.

17:33 – After debating for about a minute about which side of the train we want to be on, we realize that it doesn’t mean a damn thing, and go with the lazy route and stay where we are. Board the train.

17:37 – Um…where are all the hockey fans? With most of the ‘Dome expected to be filled, you’d think there’d be more than two guys debating something about Yzerman and Fedorov.

17:40 – Oh, here’s a guy in a Flames hat. I…guess that’s something?

17:42 – That lasted long. Hat boy is gone. In his place, there’s a chick in a black Hitmen jersey. I’d say I came out ahead on that trade.

17:52 – Downtown. As we approach Olympic Plaza, we see a cop looking through some paperwork with a guy in cuffs standing on the sidewalk beside him. As my mom would say, someone got his pee-pee slapped.

17:54 – Um…Dad? Are you sure jaywalking on a red light is such a good idea? Dad? Fucksake.

17:57 – We arrive at Victoria Park station. There’s a few guys in Hitmen hats and jerseys, suggesting that this is, in fact, the right night. Good, I was starting to get worried. The scalpers and their potential clients aid this impression, although I have to ask–the fuck would you need to want look for a scalper for a junior game for?! Maybe someone was expecting a sellout. Poor bastard; the actual attendance: the two of us, plus 17,037 friends–amazing for a junior game, but definitely not a sellout.

17:59 – I always enjoy looking at the old Stampede posters on the walk to the ‘Dome; must be the historian im me. You know, I had an opportunity to procure some articles on Germany’s military buildup in the 1930s at an auction four years ago, but I pussied out. Stupid, I know. Oh, and they’re looking for 1922, 1926, and 1930 posters, so if you know anything about that, give the Stampede Foundation a jingle; they’d love to hear from you.

18:00 – As we enter the outdoor walkway from the Stampede Corral to the Saddledome itself, we can hear sports radio and the bass thump of music from the arena sound system. Molson really needs to update their overhead ads–they’re six years, a uniform change, and one massive Stanley Cup run out of date.

18:06 – Mother of Christ, are these concessions expensive. The name-brand joints are no better, since everything is arena-inflated. Good thing I’m not paying for goodies…

18:13 – Hit the seats. There’s metal floors here–whoever heard of metal floors at an arena? Then again, whoever heard of $3.25 small Cokes? In other news, we can see the Hitmen defensive end really nicely from here, including the Dodge Ram face-off dots. Wait…Dodge Ram face-off dots?! Goddamnit, isn’t it bad enough these companies buy away the right to name an arena something classy–now we can’t even have red face-off dots? Aye yi yi.

18:20 – Is it a law that programs must contain no useful information? Fortunately, as with most things, it’s a lot cheaper than an NHL game, so I can’t bitch too much. On the other hand, I can bitch mightily about the noisemakers. Guys, it’s 45 minutes ’til puck-drop. Save it for the game.

18:26 – Players! The crowd (all 3000 that have showed up this early) is adequately appreciative. They warm up for a few minutes and then return to their dressing room, at which point I decide to hit the can.

18:40 – On my way back to my seat, I see a guy in a Flames jersey. I wonder if anyone’s told him yet that the season was cancelled six weeks ago? Should I break the news to him myself?

18:41 – I join the ranks of the obnoxious and pick up a couple of (free) pairs of thunder sticks. I blow.

18:44 – Zamboni! The kids in front of me bang the glass with their thundersticks. Guys, they make more noise when you bang them together. That’s kinda what they’re for.

18:53 – Hooters sponsors a shuttle to Hitmen games? I’m not sure if that’s ironic or not.

18:55 – The Hitmen’s mascot is…Farley the Fox? Oh…kay. Someone behind me calls him a “weasel.” Heh. I’m so calling him the Weasel for the rest of the night.

18:56 – Lights, metal, Hitmen…montage. Right.

18:59 – The Weasel is headbanging. When do we start, again?

19:00 – And now we have Hitmen. The crowd is respectable now, and they show their appreciation with more gusto than before.

19:01 – A national anthem is one of those things, ya know? You just can’t forget the words to “O Canada.” And you always sing it loud and proud when you’re at an event like this. You just do.

19:03 – Queen wants to rock us. As I ponder the deeper implications of this, and scribble down the events of the past three minutes, the puck drops.

The Game

Instead of noting times on my observations, I just made point-form notes on what I saw and thought. As I got increasingly engaged by the game–and as people had increasing numbers of beers–I noticed a few more things. So the first couple of periods are blank, but by the third, things pick up considerably.

1^st Period:

• If it’s wrong to love the unique thunk of helmet against Plexiglass, I don’t want to be right. Author’s Note: Again. Really unfortunate in hindsight.
• I should add to my earlier assessment of my seats–you can see the defensive end just fine, but you can’t see the offensive end for shit. Oh, well, they were still $22.
• “Try again next time!” Hee. Kids sound so cute when they try to be arrogant.
• Crap. Lethbridge scored. It’s worth noting here that of the around 15,000 who are currently here, at least 3000 are Lethbridge fans, so there’s a fair bit of noise, even though the “enemy” scored.

1^st Intermission:

• Ooh, the officially-sanctioned hotties–a significant thing, considering North American hockey tends to lack cheerleaders. And…they’re going the other way. Damn. Author’s Note: Yeah. I was 18. We will encounter this theme again.
• Look up. Waaay up. No, don’t keep discussing your relationship. Look the…there you go. Yes, wave. Okay, we’re done. As you were.

2^nd Period:

• GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAL! The noise and energy is electric, far more than anything I’ve ever experienced first-hand, which immediately confirms that I was never at the Saddledome last spring. Also, I now know what at least some of the metal is for–not the metal flooring, mind you, but the loose metal sheets near the boards that rattle so nicely when you stomp them.
• “Nice call, ref!” Gotta love how you hear this every time a call goes against the home team, even when it’s perfectly legitimate.
• “Get a haircut!” Poor Christian. Mocked at every turn. I’d be more inclined to poke at his tiny bald spot, anyway.

2^nd Intermission:

• The Saddledome’s ice cream is surprisingly good. Well, good enough that I’m willing to stand in a 30-deep line to pay almost $5 for 8 oz. of it.
• Speaking of lines, there’s such a thing as “excuse me,” assholes. I swear, of the fifty or so people that cut in front of me to get elsewhere, only one said “excuse me.” Reprehensible.
• Oblivious JumboTron people continue. One who’s not oblivious? The original Hitman, Bret Hart himself. You know, I seem to remember him having a rather significant stake in this franchise when it was formed in 1994, hence the name. I wonder if he retained any or all of it when the Flames bought the club in 1997? (Note: No, he hasn’t.)
• And it’s time for the random dude who reeks of pot. Hey, I don’t care what you think of the pot law and whether you break it–you fucking stink. That is what gets me every time.

3^rd Period:

• Dad offers to hold my ice cream while I sit down–and starts eating it. Gah!
• “Hurry! HURRY!” I briefly wonder if watching the Brier has affected me in some way, but dismiss the notion out of hand.
• Kisio gave the boys something to think about in that last intermission. They’re skating hard, and they’re actually shooting–a novelty in this game, where the shot clock reads 23-11 Lethbridge after two periods.
• “Come on, boys! You’re lettin’ ‘em outwork you!” Thanks for that burst of spit, Dad. I guess he’s starting to get into the game, too.
• A fan boos with the rest of the crowd over an iffy call. “Couldn’t see it, but it must’ve been bad.” Ah, hockey solidarity.
• GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAL! Pushkarev ties the game with a beaut. The fans go even wilder than last time. By this point, I’m fully into it.
• During a stoppage in play, I notice the synth-organ lead-in to the traditional “Go Team Go” is “Birthday”; back in the first, they used “Kashmir”. Interesting era we live in when you hear something like that and it doesn’t seem strange to you.
• Since we’re on the subject of music, the “real” music has been excellent. With a strong focus on hard rock from the likes of Trooper, AC/DC, Queen, and classic Metallica, it reminded me of nothing if not my own music collection. Huge thumbs-up to the new sound crew they hired last year.
• “Oh-ho! He got lucky there! Bet he didn’t even enjoy it!” Okay, that was me. But he did. (Pogge tried to clear a puck behind the net and fanned on it, yet somehow managed to get a second shot and cleared it.)
• The Weasel is doing the YMCA. Good Lord.
• There’s a chip giveaway in our section. At the end, one kid gets the empty box, which he prompty tosses back at the Weasel, hitting him square in the ass. Solid gold.
• Get your fingers out of your nose, Goddamnit! Can’t you see yourself?
• To everyone sitting in Section 107, Rows 1-3: you rock. Everyone there was passing around one of the big-ass bags of chips to share! If only I wasn’t full!
• More JumboTron people. A trio of dancers, and…the same two chicks that were up there in the first? Oh…kay. I guess they know the cameraman or something.

3^rd Intermission:

• I hate public cans. No matter how recently the cleaning staff has been through, they always feel dirty. Now, imagine spending six minutes in one (which would be no time at home) with a guy standing outside waiting to change your TP, and imagining there being a massive line behind him because, hey, there’s 17,039 people here tonight. There’s bound to be more than just me, ya know? So, yeah, longest six minutes of my life. Author’s Note: *sigh*
• Who is that masked man? Oh, it’s just Jason. I guess even masked serial killers have to unwind once in a while.
• What hockey game would be complete without at least one rendition of “The Hockey Song”? Stompin’ Tom has got to be fucking rich from the royalties. If he’s not, he should shoot his agent, resurrect him, then shoot him again.
• There’s a guy in a skull mask the next aisle over. Awesome! (Note: He also appeared in Thursday’s Herald. His name is evidently Dave Gorsline.)

1^st Overtime:

• And the officially-sanctioned hotties are now walking right past me. I need a girlfriend if I’m actully writing this down. Author’s Note: Yes, yes, you do.
• This place is crackling with energy. And the Hitmen have gotten even better. Novel concept, considering their standard MO is to collapse in the third, and choke in OT. I’m feeling really good about our chances. (Did I just say “our?” Huh.)
• Fast-paced, hard-hitting, hard-working, and more than a touch of finesse: I hereby dub this “real hockey.” Pay close attention, NHL coaches and GMs; when the Bob & Gary Show is finally over, this is what I want to see, not retarded-looking nets.
• “Zoooooooooooorrrrrrrrroooooooooo! Zoooooooooooorrrrrrrrroooooooooo!” Ah, another time-honoured hockey tradition–psyching the enemy goaltender by talking to him all game.
• Kids Say the Darnedest Things, Part II: “Get better glasses, ref!” after a bad offside call. I was laughing too hard to tell him it was the linesman that was blind.

4^th Intermission:

• You could cut the tension in this place with a knife. After how dominant the Hitmen are, everyone’s getting kinda nervous that a bad bounce or call could end it all in spite of everything. Or maybe I’m projecting.
• The officially-sanctioned hotties walk right past me going the other way. Yup. Need a girlfriend.
• Why is it that Dad’s (formerly my) 4½-year-old beat-up cell phone can dial out of our ice-level seats, but my six-month-old, near-mint phone can’t?
• You can tell this is an older JumboTron because the resolution just isn’t there–I couldn’t even read the “KEL” on the Kelowna @ Vancouver feed they showed us during intermission.
• If you’ve ever wondered how America’s Funniest Home Videos has managed to survive fifteen years, here’s the secret: people getting hurt is funny. Period.
• This intermission’s JumboTron people include a tired kid who suddenly wakes up as soon as he comes on-camera. Hm…

2^nd Overtime:

• The ‘Dome is getting sleepy, even though it’s not yet 10:30. I guess it’s true that junior hockey does attract more kids than major pro.
• GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAL! Of course, I couldn’t fucking see it, but that doesn’t matter. The buiding erupts, awoken from its near-hibernation. Ladd from Getzlaf at 24:32 of overtime; final score: 3-2 Hitmen.
• How ironic is it that Dylan Yeo–after assisting on Lethbridge’s second goal with his indecision–is still named the Hardest-Working Hitman?

Aftermath

22:57 – Well, we would be getting on a train, but they have to remove a sleeping drunk. Quips one would-be patron: “Why? So they can just let more drunks on?”

23:00 – We finally get on, and even though I was only two people behind my dad, I still manage to get no seat. Also, our area of the train smells funny, and there’s a green streak on the window. Ew.

23:02 – Some asshole on a cell phone is blocking the seat by sitting on the edge and not letting anyone join him. If he wasn’t two seats down…

23:10 – And now there’s a guy clicking his nails against his teeth, on the Whitehorn-bound train. GRRR!

23:21 – “End of line. Thank you for riding Calgary Transit.” “You’re welcome!”

23:33 – We arrive home. The night is over. Great fun, and definitely something I’d do again.

Afterthoughts

Wow. This is the second-longest thing I’ve written for this site (the four-part lockout article being #1), but it’s something I’ve enjoyed a lot, because it’s allowed me to relive the night several times in the fleshing-out of my notes. As I said above, the NHL could definitely take a few notes from the junior leagues; they play a much more blue-collar game, more reminescent of the way it used to be played, and frankly, the way it ought to be played. The game was a fantastic value, even without the overtime, it was exciting, the atmosphere was engaging…the whole experience was damn near perfect. If they could just do something about the concession prices (and the bland popcorn–it’s called salt, people), and if the first period in particular had been a little more exciting, it would have been 5/5 for sure. So if you ever feel a need to cure the hockey withdrawal symptoms, head on over to TicketMaster or the Saddledome and get yourself a couple of Hitmen tickets, because you’re not going to find a better value anytime soon, and with the second round coming, there’s at least two more chances for you to enjoy some old-time playoff hockey.